1. Lola

Chapter 1

Lola

"Come on, Coke. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up." The busy airport has me plugging my opposite ear as I try to call my sister Coco. "Come on, you always pick up. Why aren't you picking up now?" I mutter into the receiver as if she can hear me.

"Hi, sorry I missed your call. Please leave a message, and I'll call you back." Beep.

"Seriously? Coke, where are you? Never mind. So you won't believe this: I just caught Dillon in bed with another woman." I hold back the tears because it's bad enough that I look like a train wreck. I don't need to sound like one, either. "Some graduation present to me, huh?"

"Now boarding for Dublin, Ireland, Flight 8282. Please have your boarding pass ready."

"Shoot. Oh, Coke. I'm doing something impulsive and crazy. Please don't be upset, but I'm going to Ireland. I need different scenery and different people. I'll call you once I'm settled. Love you." I hit the end call button and my phone rings. Dillon's name and face flash on the screen. Pissed off and sad, I power off my phone. With shaky hands, I grab my carry-on and stand in line. I'm anxious and scared but excited about my new adventure, even though I'm all over the place emotionally.

The rain pours like buckets as I stand under the awning late at night in front of a row of hostels. The taxi driver booked it when my stuff and I left the cab. I'm drenched and irritated because I asked the driver to take me to a hotel, yet he dropped me off here. And not one hostel is open.

I didn't think our English would be so far off that he'd drop me off here instead of at a hotel. This is what spontaneity gets you, though. I'm not even packed appropriately. I just grabbed what I could, stormed out of our apartment, and headed straight to the airport. I thought for sure I would head home to Forbidden Falls, Oregon, and stay with my sister. However, at the ticket counter, the next flight to Ireland stared me in the face like a big flashing beacon of change.

Ever since I was little, I've wanted to go to Ireland. It's a dream come true, and now that I've graduated from college, I'm still job hunting. When will this be an easy option for me? Why not just do something uncharacteristic of me and go?

The rain pelts hard onto the awning, and the wind is sharp, so water is still drenching me from the sides. The only safety I'll have is indoors. I should've just gone home to Coco. This is a ridiculous thing to do.

Further down the street, a loud noise hits me as boisterous laughter and fiddle music play, then vanishes. Grabbing my suitcase and backpack, I run in the direction to find that on the corner is a pub—a traditional Irish Pub—and I exhale in relief.

Throwing open the doors, I struggle to pull my suitcase inside over the lip in the door and stumble inside. My hair is soaked and plastered to my face, and water slides off me and puddles on the ground. The laughter in the room quiets down, and the fiddle music stops as all eyes are on me.

I gulp as a massive blush stains my cheeks, and I wish I could melt into the floor with the water.

"Oi, the wee lass is soaked through, and ye all stare at her like ye've never seen a tourist before. Get back to it," an older woman yells out to the crowd as she comes from behind the bar with a towel. "Here ye go, lass. Use this to dry off a bit, and I'll get ye some stew to warm up."

"Thank you." I grab the towel and wipe my face as I struggle with my bags.

"Oi, are none of ye a gentleman? Help her with her bags." The woman shakes her head and mutters under her breath, "A bunch of ingrates."

The woman tells a man to move from a stool at the bar. "Come sit here. We'll get ye right as rain." She smiles at her pun, and I can't help but smile at her.

I thank the man who moves, and he shrugs his shoulder as he carries his pint to a table with a couple of other fellas.

"Thank you so much," I tell the bartender again.

"Don't worry, lass. We'll take care of ye. American, huh?"

I nod and huddle from the chill in my bones and the crowds' stares.

"Yes."

"Don't worry about the crowd here. We're a small local pub, and even though we're by all the hostels and get tourists in here constantly, these yokels still get mighty curious." She shakes her head as she spoons the warming stew into a bowl and hands it to me. "Now eat up. It'll warm thee bones. I'll get you some hot tea, too."

"Thank you." I don't know what else to say. I keep thanking her because I need all the warmth and kindness I can consume after the past twelve hours.

I dive into the stew because I'm starving. I was so nervous on the plane, I couldn't eat. I never knew I had a fear of flying as I've never flown before. It's always cars, trains, and buses, but a plane is petrifying. My body hurts from clenching the whole flight.

The stew hits my taste buds and zaps me to life a little more. The flavors are rich and hearty. "Oh my, this is so good!" I scarf the stew down. It's the most unladylike act I've ever done.

The woman gives me a large grin. "I'm glad ye like it. There's more if ye need it. Just say the word."

I nod, my mouth full. The woman smiles and walks off to help another customer refill his pint.

The room got louder again as they suddenly realize I'm not going to do something irrational, like strip naked in front of them and dance around. It's how they have me feeling, like I'm a sideshow.

Nobody talks to me, but I must look animalistic with how I'm inhaling the stew. The bartender comes over with a pot of tea and a cup. "Ye want another bowl?"

I don't want to appear gluttonous, and I'm not so hungry anymore, but it's so good that I nod. And the woman laughs. It's infectious as she laughs with her whole heart, making me feel even more welcome.

"Here ye go, lass. I'm Aoife O'Neill. What's ye name?"

"Lola Malone."

"Ah, an Irish lass."

I smile. "Yes, though I don't know much about my heritage. One reason I'm here."

"And thee other?" She crosses her arms and leans on the bar as she waits for me to tell my life story, which I'm not prepared to do. Coco and I grew up in foster care, so it's only ever been us. Luckily, we were able to stay together. Many siblings can be split, but we weren't, and she's my confidante. She's who I tell my stories and secrets to, not somebody I just met.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"And now?"

"And now, well, I'm not so sure. I just arrived with no plans and no reservations, and the taxi driver dropped me off at the hostel instead of a hotel, like I asked him. The hostels are closed. I'm just an idiot who shouldn't have been spontaneous. It doesn't work for me."

A heavy grunt sounds behind me, and chills race along my skin, and it has nothing to do with the cold. My nipples pebble, and I can't believe how hot that sound makes me. I no longer need the tea or the stew.

I turn around, and a behemoth of a man stands behind me. He has jet black shaggy hair that curls at the end, pronounced eyebrows with high cheekbones, and the grayest eyes that look almost silver. He has heart-shaped, puffy lips that beg to be kissed. He has broad shoulders, a barrel chest, and massively thick thighs. The scowl on his face is the only thing stopping me from drooling because he glares at me like I stole the crown jewels.

"Lola, this is me son, Finn. Finn, this is Lola Malone. She's American."

I raise my hand to shake his. "Hello, nice to meet you."

The man grunts, walks around the side to get behind the bar, and goes to the far end to pour a pint for a customer.

Dazed, I've never been so rebuffed before. I drop my hand and lower my gaze, embarrassed as the two ladies in the booth closest to my seat laugh as they look me over.

"Ah, don't mind his surliness, lass. Me Finn is like that with everybody. I'd be worried if he were nice to ye." She winks and helps another customer who's placing an order for some food.

Now that I'm alone and not trying to warm up, I scan the room and take in the authentic Irish atmosphere, and I love it.

It doesn't help that my eyes keep scanning over the proprietor's son, though. No matter how rude he is, I've never been so entranced by a man before. My ex didn't even get me excited like this when we were having sex. This man just looks at me and I'm no longer only wet on the outside of my jeans.